Discouraged but not disconcerted, he was about to jump across, when three horsemen appeared on the opposite side.
They were gendarmes who had ridden around the madder-field and chestnut-trees, knowing they could easily catch him on the level ground of the thistle-field.
At the sight of these three men, Gaston stood perplexed.
He should certainly be captured if he attempted to run through the field, at the end of which he could see the cabin of Pilorel the ferryman.
To retrace his steps would be surrendering to the hussars.
At a little distance on his right was a forest, but he was separated from it by a road upon which he heard the sound of approaching horses. He would certainly be caught there.
Foes in front of him, foes behind him, foes on the right of him! What was on his left?
On his left was the surging, foaming river.
What hope was left? The circle of which he was the centre was fast narrowing.
Must he, then, fall back upon suicide? Here in an open field, tracked by police like a wild beast, must he blow his brains out? What a death for a De Clameran!